Wandering Child
by MaggiesWorld
Summary: Christine has just lost her father and goes to live in the Opera house will her life forever be changed by an angel. Erik is a lost and discontent man will his life be forever altered when he meets an angel?


**Characters are owned by leroux and lloyd webber. This is my first attempt at a true fanfic tell me what you think.**

**Chapter 1**

It was early morning. The wet drizzling of rain created a silver winding path ahead of the two ladies. One lady, walked tall and proud through the street with a determined air. Clutching the

woman's hand was a young lady. No more than an infant was this girl. Silky blonde locks of hair were tied back with a black ribbon. The black ribbon flowed gently down the child's back,

complimenting the small dress she wore. The young girl rubbed at her tired eyes.

She had been woken rather abruptly by her mother, the older woman she was with. They had dressed quickly and in haste left the confines of the Opera House walls. That is where they lived. The

young girl and her mother lived in the dormitories of the opera house along with other various performers and musicians. It was, in the child's eyes a grand lifestyle. A life filled with beautiful

music, astounding performances, gorgeous people, luscious costumes, grand architecture and lavish galas. This was the life the young girl knew she would grow to live in permanently, just like her

mother. They had been swept away from the Paris streets late in the evening. Taken into the countryside, they had barely slept in the rumbling carriage, they traveled all night. When the morning

dawned they had reached the small town that was their destination. Traveling the rest of the way on foot they made their way to a what appeared to be abandoned part of the little town.

The farther they walked down the path, the less the rain fell. When the woman determined it was safe to, she pulled closed her dampened black parasol and let it hang off her arm gently at her

side. The young child, determined to find joy in every moment, jumped in a rather large puddle drenching her shoes and stockings as well as her mother's hemline with muddy rain water. She was

rewarded with a slight scold from her mother before they continued on their way. The fog in the air was beginning to lift as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky. The silver pavement,

glistening in the light, suddenly came to an abrupt halt as it met with a crooked brown fence. The worn fence was no taller than the child and was rotting away. Just beyond the fence was an

unkept lawn with wild flowers growing everywhere and grass that would no doubt reach the child's knees. The woman released her hand from the child to force open the stubborn wooden fence,

from there they continued on an overgrown cobblestone path to a quaint cottage. The cottage was covered with vines and greenery that it was almost impossible to see its stone structure. But the

woman and her chid pressed onward up to a door. An old wooden door rotting away just like the fence. This whole house was wasting away. It was a miracle that the structure still stood before

them. Knocking a gentle yet firm knock upon the door the woman waited for an answer. She was granted one soon, when the door slowly opened. No light escaped the slight crack in the door, as

it was slowly pulled into the house. Before the new arrivals stood a plain woman. Dressed in grays and browns, she looked upon the sadly. She bowed her head and stepped aside to allow the

guests to enter. After entering the woman discovered the house to be in just as dilapidated a state on the inside as it was on the outside. The young girl pressed herself firmly to the side of her

mother burying the side of her face deep within the black skirt of her mother's dress. The house was damp and dreary, the furniture was ripped and worn, the carpets threadbare, and cobwebs

covered almost every inch of the room. The home was dark and depressing. The windows were either covered by curtains or the ever-growing plant life on the exterior.

The plain woman spoke. She introduced herself as Madame Rains. No words were passed among the women except for introductions. Madame Rains lead the woman up a small staircase. Once

reaching the top the woman spotted light. A room not too far from the stair landing was being illuminated by a soft candlelight. Madame Rains silently reached for the rusted doorknob, knocked

softly, and entered the room. After a whisper or two Madame Rains called for the guests to follow in after her. Entering the room with care they were met with the sight of a young girl kneeling

next to a bed occupied by an older man. Madame Rains broke the silence "Monsieur Daae, this is Madame Giry and her young daughter Meg Giry." The guests walked farther into the room to let

man see their faces. The girl, Meg, was still clutching tightly to her mother's side. " Madame Giry, this is Monsieur Gustave Daae and his daughter Christine." The young Christine tore her eyes

away from her fathers face to turn and properly greet their guests. Her father had taught her no matter how easy or hard times become manners matter. She couldn't, she wouldn't allow her

father see her fail when he was in this state.

Moments of silence turned into minutes. M. Daae looked at his daughter and asked if she would allow him a moment's privacy with their guest Mme. Giry. Christine the ever perfect child nodded in

her acquiesce and left the room only to be followed by Mme Rains and little Meg. Mme. Giry gingerly closed the door as the woman led the children out. She turned back to the shadowed bed wear

the man resided. His eyes were a magnificent blue. The slight candlelight only illuminated them more. They took Mme. Giry's breathe away. She knew that no matter how long she lived she

wouldn't forget these eyes. These eyes bore into her soul. The man cleared his dry throat and began to speak. "My poor Christine. My poor, sweet, innocent Christine. She has only known me as a

parent. Her mother…her mother abandoned us only weeks after giving birth to her and now I'm afraid the Lord is forcing me to abandon her as well. Oh, my Christine. She is as fragile as a flower.

Without proper care and love she will wilt. Please, I beg you to, nurture my child. She is kind and respectful, she will not give you trouble. Oh, Christine…. I have heard that you have many young

girls in your care at the Opera House in Paris, Mme. Giry. Please, allow my daughter to be cared for as well. Let her continue to know music to grow in music. For I fear when I am gone she will lose

her music. Make sure she doesn't misplace her song…. Oh, Christine." The last words came as a whisper. His time was short. Mme. Giry raced to the hall to find a silent group sitting upon the

staircase. Christine looked up to her with eyes reddened from tears. Mme. Giry reached for the child's hand and walked her back to the room.

The candlelight was slowly fading. M. Daae's breaths were more labored. But when he looked on his daughter's face he became almost serene. In a voice barely above a whisper he tried to explain

to his child his death. "Oh, Christine. My child, it is time for me to leave you. I am being called to heaven. But my sweet Christine, from heaven, I will watch over you." Christine's eyes widened.

The thought of her father in heaven shocked her. He was supposed to remain on earth, with her. She grasped his hand in her small ones, it was frozen so she pressed her warm cheek to it and

listened on. "When i'm in heaven, I will search out the Angel of Music and send him to you. He will bring you the music I have always dreamed of for you. He will allow you to soar and reach

heavenly heights here on earth." She envisioned an angel swooping to earth in white flowing robes and beautiful blonde curls. The angel would help her to possess the voice her father had always

hoped she would have and when she achieved the voice her father would return to her side. "Christine, if you need me I will always listen. I love you my angel, my….my Christine." With those last

words Gustave Daae gasped for his last breath and let death claim him. Christine looked on his face with wide eyes. She knew her father was gone. He had been taken from her so abruptly. She

wanted to shed tears, she wanted to scream at the rising sun, she wanted to run until it hurt to breath, she wanted to get lost and to never be found, she wanted her father to open his eyes and

sing to her once more. But she allowed none of this. The young girl, was no more than 10 years of age but had a maturity beyond her years. She remained calm and collected in front of her

guests.

Madame Giry silenty stood behind the girl. She placed her hand on her shoulder and simply said "Come we must go." Christine looked at her father features trying to memorize his face. She

whispered a prayer to God before standing and allowing this stranger to lead her from her home. Her father had warned her that she may be taken away from home so she had packed a

humble case of clothes and her dolly. It was a beautiful doll that her father had purchased on one of their many adventures performing in France. Christine went into her room to collect her things

clutching tightly to the doll. Sadness consumed her and without another thought she raced back to her father's bedside and kissed his cheek and hugged his immobile form. Praying for a miracle

she prayed that his arms would wrap around her once again. But no such comfort welcomed her. Her face pressed tightly to his body she took in his scent one last time before Mme. Giry peeled her

from him and his room. The four women walked down the stairs of the house and out to the yard. Mme. Giry still holding on to her umbrella asked her daughter to hold it. This allowed her to take

both girls by the hand and guide them back to the town square to meet the awaiting carriage. Mme. Rains watched from the doorway as the two girls and the woman made their way through the

yard and out the wooden fence. Christine turned around for one last glance at her home. The once beautiful home that had become victim to decay since her father took ill. She remembered it

when it was beautiful and her eyes began to sting with tears so she turned forward. Her head down watching her feet, she allowed herself to be guided down the winding path by the woman.

She allowed the woman to lead her to her new life.

They entered the carriage. Christine placed her small case at her feet and continued to tightly clutch at her dolly. Christine sat by herself on one side of the carriage. Mme. Giry studied the

young girl. She seemed to be fairing well for someone so young. But she would not be deceived. This child, she knew, was in a state of shock. Therefore she gave her space. But, Mme. Giry knew,

soon the anguish would come and the time for physical affection would be needed. But not yet, therefore Mme. Giry and Meg took a seat on the opposite side of the carriage, facing the young, lost

girl. When the carriage started on it's way back to Paris, Christine watched out the window and admired the country side and the many sights she saw. Almost everything reminded her of her

father. To block the tears Christine thought of the promise her father gave her. Christine would have an angel sent to her. Christine anxiously awaited this seraphim. Christine silently thought to

herself 'Angel, hurry and please come to me soon. Stay by my side, guide me.'

So this story is gonna hopefully get a nice flow soon. I hope you are liking please leave a review. Readers+ Reviews = More Chapters


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